


Most Importantly, Do No Harm

by isoladea



Category: Free!
Genre: Bullying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoladea/pseuds/isoladea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Haruka went down — not without a fight, but he went down nonetheless.</p><p>(Or: Rin knew that Makoto hid things, like his own self, for example.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Importantly, Do No Harm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for andthenabanana's brilliant prompt:  
> "I really want a fic or art of Rin saying “Ah. Good job, you released the Killer Whale” when Makoto goes all intense/angry/protective~"
> 
> Original prompt post here:  
> http://andthenabanana.tumblr.com/post/58138877739/i-really-want-a-fic-or-art-of-rin-saying-ah-good

Haruka was not weak — had never allowed himself be weak — but nothing about him was built for brute strength.  He was all tapering waist and slim hips and narrow ankles, less built, perhaps, than coaxed into an elegant, flowing shape, the way Venetian glass is blown and arched into life in someone’s great-grandfather’s workshop.  When Captain Mikoshiba stepped out to take an anaemic student to the infirmary, when two third-years took their places before Haruka, who was pulling himself out of the pool, Haruka went down — not without a fight, but he went down nonetheless.

Rin watched the prelude unfold like a macabre silent movie from the mezzanine floor, chin propped in hand.  The taller of the seniors placed his hand on Haruka’s sternum and pushed.  Haruka stumbled backwards, but recovered easily; the senior had misjudged the strength in his torso, the muscles in his supple front-crawler’s shoulders.  The other, however, possessed a good reaction time and a quick mind misused.  Capitalising on Haruka’s momentary disorientation, the senior hooked his ankle around Haruka’s and  _pulled_.

Haruka went down, slipping backwards with his arms outstretched, his spine arching into what could be easily mistaken as a backstroke start.  His mouth parted in soundless surprise, and Rin imagined Haruka’s eyes — his cool, impassive eyes — wide and his pupils blown underneath his goggles.

There was no dignity in falling, not even for Haruka.  He did not enter the water; rather, he shattered against its surface, then the water took him in, swallowed him whole, and Rin was running downstairs faster than he had ever run his daily 3-kilometre.

_ A déjà vu _ , Rin told himself, sneakers bounding down the steps.  Because a long, long time ago, he had seen what he saw from his omniscient perspective on the balcony: at the other end of the room, Makoto turned – before the ankle-tripping, even, as if he possessed some sort of telepathic senses when it came to Haruka — and saw Haruka going down.

It ripped through the arena like an anguished roar:  _“Haru!”_  and Rin knew that he was too late.

The towel Makoto had been using to dry his hair slipped off his shoulders as he charged along the length of the swimming pool, but Makoto did not seem to notice, much less care.  Makoto’s hands — his large, warm hands — seized the instigator by the lapels of his jacket, even as Makoto’s gaze roamed across the water surface, searching for Haruka’s shadow.  The senior was less than an inch shorter than Makoto, but he was on his tiptoes when he began to struggle, scratching and grasping at Makoto’s wrists, at the bones and tendons underneath the taut muscles.

The shorter senior pulled his fist, aiming at Makoto’s solar plexus, and Rin threw himself between them in time to take the hit, slightly to the right of his spine.  He had to grab onto Makoto’s bicep as he gasped against the pain radiating across his back muscles.

Makoto looked down at him, uncomprehending.  “Rin,” he murmured, and his eyes, when they rested on the shorter senior, were wide and wounded and without a shred of mercy.  It was the curious, intrigued look a predator sported before a prey — a prey that had managed to wound it, perhaps, but a prey nonetheless.

One of Makoto’s hands moved to grasp the taller senior’s neck, and Rin had to flick a glance at the barefaced, white-lipped fear on the senior’s face and laugh, leaning hard against Makoto’s side.  “Good job, really,” he had to keep talking, to slow down Makoto’s fingers slowly pressing against the senior’s jugular, “for angering  _a 6-foot tall competitive swimmer_.  You fuckers should’ve known that before going for Haru.  Haru may look like a dolphin but he has a  _fucking killer whale_  on his side, or are you going to tell me you numbskulls never noticed?”

There was no tremor in Makoto’s hands, only calm certainty, and it was Rin who was beginning to tremble as Makoto’s hands crept around the senior’s neck.  He wanted Makoto to snap out of it, but he did not even dare to look into his friend’s eyes.  He knew that Makoto hid  _things_ ; this was the one time that Rin thought he might have been better off without ever witnessing  _this_ Makoto.

_ ‘Where is his smile?’  _ Rin despaired.

And then Haruka broke the surface, coughing and spurting water, with Nagisa by his side — Nagisa, who had overlooked the confrontation altogether and simply went for Haruka.  Haruka looked up, and his first water-logged, raspy word was: “Makoto.”

It was as if a deity had thrown a switch, and the clouds rolled back as fast as they had come.  The edges of Makoto’s eyes softened, the corners of his lips warming into a relieved smile.  With a breath, with a sigh, he said, “ _Haru_ ,” and released the senior without another thought.  The senior stumbled backwards and fell hard onto his knees.  Rin glared and bared his teeth at the second perpetrator until he, too, retreated, pulling the taller senior onto his feet. 

Makoto was hoisting Haruka out of the pool, one hand patting Haruka’s back soothingly, when Rin straightened, felt the twinge on his back, and cursed under his breath.  “Rin,” he spoke, and this time he sounded as if he was on the verge of tears, as if he was himself again.

(“Front-crawlers, both of them,” Rin explained, as if it revealed a modicum of logic within the violence, and perhaps it did, because if anyone understood envy in the face of Haruka’s swimming, it had to be Rin.)

Rei and a Samezuka student had gone to fetch Captain Mikoshiba, and they left it to an icily furious Gou to explain the situation.  The nurse had declared that Rin would be all right, save for an enormous bruise, and perhaps he would like to sleep on his stomach for the following week.  She gave Rin a cold compress and left him with his rolled-up polo shirt to Makoto’s fussing and Haruka’s impenetrable stare.

Rin hissed when Haruka gingerly placed the compress on his back.  “Are you all right?” he prompted, not as forcefully as he might have, considering he was sprawled on his chest on the infirmary bed.

Makoto, who was pouring some water for all of them, absent-mindedly answered in Haru's stead, “Oh, just some shock; inhaled some water — are you sure you’re feeling okay now, Haru?”

“I’m okay,” Haruka replied, but he was looking at Rin, and Rin knew Haruka knew.

“Makoto,” Rin sighed, “I was talking about  _you_.”

“I —” Makoto’s brows furrowed.  “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

In lieu of an answer, Haruka gently prised the water jug away from Makoto’s shaking hand, nodding at the ring of water that had formed around the glass, at the spillage on the bedside table.  “Oh,” Makoto said, so softly it could have been a mere exhalation.

“Oh,” Rin agreed, and took Makoto’s other hand — also trembling, and as cold as bones — in his.

Makoto’s right hand fumbled, before finally grasping the edge of Haruka’s shirt.  “I saw you,” he whispered, “going down.”  He was breathing hard now, almost dry-heaving, and a surge of empathy — not pity — coursed through Rin’s veins like shock.

“I know,” Haruka murmured, and they stayed like that until a bell rang somewhere far away, like the rolling of the waves on a distant shore.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I tried.


End file.
